Mihono Bourbon

Just when things have been doing good for Hailey, her life is changed by single gunfire. It was the night after the top of the criminal organization jumped from a building, and because of this, the top brass of the criminal organization have been scattered in different parts of Manila. Hailey just happened to walk past by a convenience store when she saw a short-haired man in a three-way suit killed someone by simply being on their way. Since Hailey is a witness, the man whom she saw murdered someone cannot just let her go, and the next thing she knew, she was lying down in a king-size bed and as she looks around the room, a long-haired man is sitting right across her direction while siping at the glass of bourbon he was holding as he reads the newspaper with a gun as his reading pointer.

Violet eyes with piercing sight. Mane of gold in pale moonlight. Skin so hard and lily white. Voice so soft, yet filled with might. He comes to me in the dark of night. Flash of teeth, smile so slight. There is no fear, no need to fight. In his embrace, I crave his bite. -S.R. Michele, or Shelly to those closest to her, is a typical 21 yr old, trying to find her way in life. She has good family, a close circle of friends. She's outgoing and friendly, and a bit reckless and impulsive sometimes. And she has certain gifts...when she touches things, she can see into the past, she can feel what was felt by others, and she can sense things before they happen. Ok, so maybe she's not so typical. An impromptu trip to New Orleans, a party on Bourbon Street, and an attempted assault in a dark alley lead her into a world she didn't know existed...but one she's not afraid of. She doesn't know if the violet-eyed stranger that comes to her rescue, and follows her home, is a friend or a foe - and honestly, she doesn't care. Once you've had a taste of the darkness, it's hard to pull away... **** This book was written in the late 1990's - early 2000's, and originally published in 2004, under the title: Diary of a Vampire by S.M. Royston. It was my first book, and it wasn't long until I came to hate it! (Please, don't look it up - I promise you, it's terrible) So here we are, years later, and I've decided to throw out my original work, and re-write it. Because I'm the author, and I can do that. The story, characters, and settings are the same - but the writing style is different, and in my opinion, much, much better. I hope you enjoy it. ****

“You really think a chrome leash makes me yours?” Timothy’s voice was a jagged shard of glass, his pulse thrumming frantically against the cold metal of the Blackwell collar. Kan leaned in, the scent of expensive bourbon and gunpowder clinging to him. He captured Timothy’s chin, forcing those defiant lavender eyes to meet his own. “It doesn’t make you mine, little ghost. It just keeps you still long enough for me to show you why you’ll never want to leave.” Behind him, Gideon’s shadow fell over them both, heavy and suffocating. “Careful, Kan,” the enforcer rumbled, his knuckles still stained with the blood of the men who’d tried to stop them. “He’s a reaper. He doesn't want a home. He wants a body count.” One Ghost. Two Predators. No Escape. Timothy Gal is a shadow. A high-level operative for the Nash Rebellion, he’s spent his life as a nameless tool in the war-torn Sopttyi District. He doesn’t feel, he doesn’t miss, and he certainly doesn't belong to anyone. But when a routine surveillance mission in Saati Town goes south, he catches the eye of the two most dangerous men in the Blackwell Mafia. Gideon Blackwell is the muscle—a man of controlled violence and territorial hunger. Kan Nelblack is the mind—a predator with a silver tongue and a taste for absolute submission. They don’t just want Timothy’s secrets. They want his soul.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

Standing against the corner of the wall, her entire drenched body was shivering, both in fear and cold. Her arms were tightly wrapped around herself. Her head was downcast. "Didn't I warn you not to step out of this house without my permission?" A shiver ran down her spine, hearing that intensely rugged voice questioning her. She didn't answer, not only just because she was a mute but also because she didn't know what to answer that person before her. Her shivering turned vigorous when she heard those heavy footsteps coming closer to her. That tall sinewy figure towered her. "You know what will I do to you if I have to repeat my fucking self again," She slowly took her head upward, hearing his threat. Her teary golden brown eyes met with his icy blue ones. His words immediately reminded her what he had done to her last night. Anger and hatred brimmed up in her watery eyes, and she didn't even need to use her words to tell him that. Her tears told him the intensity of her hatred towards him after what he had done to her last night. His jaw clenched. His nefarious gaze hooded. Grabbing her fragile neck with his brawny palm, he pushed her against the wall more and hovered her. "You consider me as a monster, don't you?" Hearing him whispering those words in her ear, her heart froze in terror, realising the worst things he was capable of doing to her. He gripped her neck tightly, causing a tear to slip down from her eyes. He leaned closer to her face, causing their noses to rub against each other. "Then tonight I will really become one for you and will torment this innocence of yours, Kaya Haiden……."

In the Bennet family, Rue had long been jealous of her twin sister, Rachel. She concocted a plan to get Rachel drunk and send her into a stranger's bed at their birthday party, hoping that she would be expelled from the Bennet family with her ruined reputation. However, in the playful hands of fate, Rachel bedded Edward Bluemel, the richest man in the world, and became pregnant. Edward fell head over heels for Rachel, and actively searched for the woman with whom he only had the fortune to meet once. With Rue's manipulation, the couple’s reunion was prevented. Nine months later, Rachel gave birth to a pair of twin boys, which fueled Rue's flames of jealousy once more. In order to take over Rachel’s place as Edward’s wife, Rue took one of the twins and pretended to be her. With that, she managed to marry Edward, though she never had his favor since then. Five years passed, the other twin that was raised by Rachel had grown up to be a cute, kind prodigy. By chance, he entered an upper-class kindergarten where he met his twin brother for the first time…